


Remember Me

by The_Girl_Who_Watched_TV



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Angsty-ish, Blanky is the best wingman, M/M, Memory Loss, Temporary Amnesia, lasting effects after scurvy and led poisoning never heard of them, time travelling poem included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21353125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Girl_Who_Watched_TV/pseuds/The_Girl_Who_Watched_TV
Summary: James wakes up in a tent. They've been rescued. But he can't remember much. Why is Francis being kind? What are all of these feelings? Will he ever recover his memories?
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 'The Terror Fan Bingo' over on tumblr with the prompt: Amnesia

He could feel the brightness through his closed eyes. He groaned and moved to shield his eyes with his hand, but he couldn’t. He felt weak, like he’d been through hard labour for hours on end without rest. He furrowed his brow and slowly opened his eyes. It was far too bright, but he forced himself to open them. He blinked frantically to regain his vision and when he could make out his surroundings, he was surprised to see Francis sitting beside him. Fast asleep.

“Fr…” He tried saying Francis’ name but what came out sounded more like a growl. He cleared his throat. That seem to have alerted Francis as he sat up, looking around in confusion before finally settling on James. His features seemed to soften as he gazed at James’ face. He looked at Francis, confused. Why did he look at him like that?

“James, you’re back!” Francis reached out and took his hand. James startled at the sudden affection and he felt the impulse to pull his hand away, but like when he awoke, he couldn’t move.

“Do you need anything?”

“Water.” He managed to say in barely a whisper

“Of course.” Francis let go of his hand and James got more confused than he was before. Why did he miss Francis hand in his? He shook himself mentally. He was clearly in a weakened state.

“There you are, careful.” Francis gently helped James into a sitting position and put the glass to his lips. He’d never enjoyed water more than he did now. When he was done Francis helped him back as gently as he’d held him in a sitting position. James had to know.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

“Why do you think?” He sounds amused but his smile falters when he turns around to look at James.

“I don’t know. We aren’t exactly friends.” He sounds small and he hates it, especially when Francis is present.

“Not… We… James. What is the last thing you remember?” James stayed silent for a moment. Thinking.

“Sir John’s funeral.” Francis rubbed at his forehead as if he suddenly got a headache.

“I know you were born out of wedlock, from an affair. That they made up your name.” Surely, he remembered that. Francis was desperate for James to remember the earnest words they’d shared. Remember what they thought would be James last moment.

“How on earth do you know that?” James panicked. He’d never told any one about that. He’d planned on taking his secret to the grave.

“You told me!” Francis barked.

“Why would I tell you of all people? You must have found out some other way. To hold it against me. Why now? What could I possibly give you now?” He was angry, and ashamed. Francis of all people knew, how would he use it?

“We…” Francis snapped his mouth shut, turned around and stormed out of the tent. James looked after him as he started coughing from straining his voice. He felt an ache in his chest as he looked as the flaps of the tent closed. A doctor appeared and started talking to him, but he didn’t hear much of what he said. He couldn’t stop thinking of Francis hand in his.

* * *

When James had finally managed to focus on the doctor he told him about his memory loss. The doctor had reassured him that in time they would most likely come back. And so he had spent a lot of time trying to force himself to remember. He wanted to talk to Francis, to see if he could help him remember. But he had been avoiding him since their argument. He couldn’t wrap his head around what Francis had said. If what he had said was true, that James had told him the truth of his parentage. How did they become friends? Francis hated him.

_“Tell us about birdshit island why don’t you, James.”_ He shook his head slightly to get rid of the images in his head. He squared his shoulders and went off in search of Francis.

“There you are, a word?” He tried to sound nonchalant, confident.

“If you must.” Francis didn’t look at him. James didn’t know if he should be grateful or annoyed. He took a deep breath.

“I seem to have forgotten some things that happened on our journey.” That was an understatement. He couldn’t remember anything after Sir John’s funeral. Francis huffed in what he assumed to be annoyance. He pressed on.

“You…” Francis looked at him finally but as soon as their eyes met he stopped speaking and a scowl took over his face.  
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re alive and we’re going home. Just move on, James.” And with that the conversation was over. James stood for a moment, looking at the back of the man in front of him. Why was he so reluctant to speak to him? Surely, he deserved to recover his memories, even if the man who held them hated him. He left the tent and as soon as the flaps closed behind him Francis shoulders slumped and he put his hands over his eyes. If he could only hold on until they got back to England, everything would be fine.

* * *

Before they knew it, they were back home. Francis had somehow succeeded in avoiding James the entire voyage. He had tried to speak to him but he’d always managed to have a reason to walk away before James could get a single word out. What James didn’t seem to have noticed was Francis eyes on him constantly as he walked around on deck or when they were eating their meals. As soon as James had looked at him he’d averted his eyes and ignored him. He’d once walked up to Francis as he and Blanky were deep into a conversation that immediately stopped as soon as he arrived. Francis had stood up and marched away while Blanky remained for a moment, looking at James, eyes seemingly searching for something before he went away with a respectful nod. James didn’t know what he’d done or perhaps hadn’t done to cause this. Yes, he didn’t remember his and Francis supposedly friendship. But he didn’t understand why they couldn’t be civil. This was worse than it had been between them before Sir John’s passing. And it made his stomach turn into knots.

Friends and family were waiting for them when they arrived. More than a few tears were shed. Even by the crew, or especially by the crew. Francis stood looking over the railing while what was left of the crew left the ship to be greeted by their loved ones and sometimes by the loved ones of the friends they had lost.. He would have preferred to slip away quietly, he didn’t have anyone he wanted to see anyway and the sounds and the mass of people made him feel crowded. He sighed and made his way through the crowd when he suddenly felt a pair of light arms around his neck. Sophia. She wept as she hugged him He didn’t know what to do so he just held her. He did not expect her to greet him after the way they parted. Years ago, he would have loved to be the one she wanted comfort from. But his heart no longer belonged to her. It belonged to someone who didn’t even remember that they were friends. So, he clinged to her a little tighter as he felt his own tears spill out.

“Oh, Francis. I am so sorry. I was being stupid, could you ever forgive me?” She looked at him with tear filled eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He’d been heartbroken when she rejected him, time and time again despite their feelings for each other. But now he was grateful. Grateful for her letting him go and that it had led him to his great love even if that love now caused him even more pain than her rejection had. He still held her dear, but he would never propose to her again. Even if it meant that he would spend the rest of his days alone.

James looked as Francis and miss Cracroft embraced and felt a twinge in his stomach. Maybe he hadn’t recovered as much as he thought. He forced himself to look away as they seem to get impossibly close in their embrace. He missed the moment when Francis stepped back, kissed the back of her hand and left her standing looking after him with sadness.

_“Miss Cracroft, who rejected you. Twice as I heard it.”_ He was stunned. He didn’t remember that. He tried to force himself to remember more. He had been sitting with Francis, discussing something. What he didn’t know. Why would he bring up miss Cracroft? What had they been talking about? He sighed and went to disembark. As soon as he stepped off the ship he was swept away by people wanting to know more about their ill-fated expedition.

* * *

The following days were spent being paraded around at various parties. He had older men asking him to share their heroic stories, about how they survived such an ordeal. Younger men looking at him with envy and women fawning over him. Years ago he would have loved the attention. But now he felt suffocated. He tried to play the part he had perfected long ago but felt it slip away earlier and earlier in the evenings. It was too much. He couldn’t even remember most of their ordeal. And yet he was paraded about as some sort of hero. He excused himself and went out on the balcony to get some air. He’d hoped to be alone, but the universe had other plans it seemed as his eyes landed on Francis back. He sighed and went to stand beside the other man.

“Francis.”

“James.” They stood in awkward silence as faint voices came from the ballroom.

“Francis, I don’t remember us being friends but I’d very much like it if we could be civil with each other. And I would like it if you could help me recover some of my memories.” James tried to extend the olive branch. He didn’t know why it was so important that Francis liked him. He’d told himself it was just to get Francis to release his memories. But maybe that’s not the whole truth, he’d felt strange ever since he’d woken up and Francis had taken his hand. Francis seemed to bring out something in him. Before he’d wanted him to take notice of him and admire him. To think of him as an equal or even superior. So he’d triggered him by telling his stories, siding with Sir John and outright making fun of his statements. Just to make him acknowledge him. But now he wanted nothing more than for Francis to look at him. To talk to him. Still acknowledge him but in a way that wasn’t triggered by him being annoying. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Francis huffed.

“What do you want to know?”

“What happened after Sir John’s funeral?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.” James scowled at him; Francis ignored him. So, this is how it was going to be. He’d have to drag out the answers.

“Right after, how did we handle the change?” He had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he and Francis had seemingly worked well together. Despite their mutual disdain for one another. Francis peered at him. It looked as he was trying to calculate something.

“We were at each other’s throats. You were understandably upset after we lost Sir John.” Francis paused. James looked at him in anticipation.

“I was drinking too much, you annoyed me and the whole situation we were in made me angry. It was all a bit much.” James looked at Francis, he hadn’t expected him to be so upfront with his feelings. But he appreciated it.

“You’re not drinking now.” James said before Francis could continue.

“Yes, well. There might have been someone who trekked all the way from Erebus to Terror, to tell me that I was in fact in charge and that I had to prove that I wasn’t going to be the worst first as I had apparently been the worst second.” James wish he could remember that. But it also made him confused. If he had spoken to Francis like that. How did they end up being as close as Francis had implied they’d been?

“And you listened to that?” James looked at Francis and saw that he was starting to smile, genuinely smiling.

“Well, I did punch him in the face.” James couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at that. Of course something like that had happened. He stopped laughing when he saw Francis look at him with an unreadable expression.

“I took some time to get sober after that.” He chose not to talk about the attack from Tuunbaq right after their fight. If he could spare James from those memories he would. They fell into silence again. James broke it first.

“I better get back before they send out a search party.” He instantly regretted his ill-chosen words. Francis didn’t seem to mind though.  
“Thank you for talking to me.” He smiled and grabbed Francis arm in a friendly gesture. As soon as his hand touched his arm he got a vision of both of them.

_“We needn’t have worried, Francis”. He said and grabbed onto Francis outer coat._ He shook his head and let go. Praying that Francis hadn’t noticed. He gave one last smile and hurried back through the door into the mass of people. As soon as Francis was sure that he was alone again he drew in a shaking breath. This was going to be harder than he thought. Not being close to James was torture and actually talking to him, seeing him smile was a constant mix of pain and relief all rolled into one. How long could he keep up the pretence, how long before he broke?

* * *

They were in James sitting room a week later.

“I’ve heard some of the men speak of ‘Carnival’ but as soon as I approach they change the subject. I’ve tried asking them, but no one is willing to tell me.” Francis almost choked on his tea.

“It’s of no importance.” Francis did not want to hurt James by making him listen to the catastrophe that ‘Carnival’ turned out to be.

“Please. I deserve to know. If it’s anything to do with me.” He pleaded with his eyes and Francis weakened. He tried to think about what his James would want him to do. His James, it was hard to believe that the man before him was actually the same man that had become his closest most earnest companion. It was his voice, his face and his smiles. But none of the gentleness that he’d seen on his face as he’d looked at Francis were there. It was one of the things he missed most. The look of utter and complete adoration. As if Francis was the most beautiful man to walk this earth. Maybe it had all been fiction. Maybe James had always looked at him as he did now. With kindness, yet slightly reserved. Nothing worth thinking about in terms of affection.

“You wanted to lift the men’s spirits before we were walking out. A carnival, that was your idea. The men loved it. They all dressed up. You dressed up as Brittania if I remember correctly.” James blushed slightly at that.  
“I wasn’t there when it began, I was still in bed to get sober. I arrived when the party was in full swing. I must admit that I was a bit overwhelmed by it all and I interrupted the festivities to give a speech to the men. As I was speaking, doctor Stanley…” Francis stopped himself, he didn’t want to continue. James didn’t need to know what had happened afterwards. He remembered the guilt that James had felt when he was giving names to the remains. How he’d insisted to do it himself despite the task being well below his rank.

“Doctor Stanley what?” James urged him on. Francis closed his eyes.

“Nothing of importance. We broke up the party and when we’d packed up our things we began our walk.” James looked sceptical but let it go. For now. They sat in silence again. It seemed like that was to become a regular thing. James looked over at Francis as he was sipping his tea. He noticed how he looked different than the picture of him that he had in his head. From before Sir John’s funeral. He looked healthier despite their ordeal. He looked handsome. James had no idea where that came from. Since when did he think about whether Francis was handsome or not. And yet when he looked at him he couldn’t help but admire him. That was certainly new. He looked away. Ashamed. What would Francis say if he knew that James found him handsome, and even that he admired his appearance. And not in an envious way. He began to speak about the latest party. Anything to stop his thoughts from taking over. They spent another hour in each other’s company before they parted ways and James was left alone with his thoughts again. 

* * *

James wanted Francis to come for at least a weekly visit. To see if Francis could jog his memory. Francis wanted to oblige but it also made his heart ache. It ached every time he thought about seeing James, knowing that he didn’t remember him. Not the real Francis. The Francis that had let James into his heart. And who he hoped James had let into his. He was sitting in his own sitting room with Blanky opposite him. He wanted advice and Blanky was the only one he would want to give them to him.

“What’s been troubling you then?” Blanky said, he knew that Francis had a lot of demons that he struggled with, but he couldn’t figure out what was bothering him this time.

“I’m in love.” Francis said with gritted teeth.

“Congratulations. How is this a problem? Unless it’s Sophia. Because then you know what I think.” Oh yes, Francis knew what Blanky felt. He’d told him in very colourful words after Francis had told him about his second attempt at proposing to her. He’d been thinking about how to ask for his advice without actually telling him who the other person was. He spoke carefully.

“They think I’m a different person from who I am. And while I do want them to know who I am. I am not actually sure I want them to reciprocate my feelings.” Francis had thought a lot about this. He loved James and we wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But he also saw James memory loss as a sign. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together. Maybe that was for the best. Why should he want to drag young James down with him? He still had a chance to have a proper family. A wife. Kids. A normal life. Things Francis couldn’t give him. Blanky had been studying Francis as he had presented his problem.

“He still doesn’t remember then?” He asked calmly. Francis looked taken aback.

“Who?”

“Fitzjames.” Blanky was no fool. He had seen the way Francis had acted around James. To anyone else it looked like he’d gone back to his old self. The person who wanted to strangle James if he so much looked in his direction. But he knew Francis better than anyone. The fact that Francis had fallen for another man didn’t bother him. He wasn’t the first man he’d known to have the same feelings. As long as they were decent people, why should he care about who they wanted to share a bed with?

“That’s not… Is this a joke? Because it’s not a very funny one.” Francis was trying to stay calm. He considered Blanky to be his best friend and confidant but when it came to matters such as these you couldn’t be too careful.

“Francis. I don’t mind.” He searched Blanky’s face for any hint of it being a trick but couldn’t find any. He carefully let his guard down.

“How did you know?”

“I’m your friend. I know you. While others see the old Francis, I see who you really are.”

“That sentence belongs on the stage.” They both laughed heartily, the tension Francis had felt lifted.

“So he still doesn’t remember you. But why would you not want him to reciprocate your feelings? I assume he did before.”

“It’s complicated, I don’t want to talk about that. Just help me with what I should tell him about our journey.” They discussed various things he could tell James and things he should avoid. Blanky agreed to some degree that the most horrific things should be omitted but he also thought that if James were to press him on certain things. He should tell him. That maybe it was a sign that he was remembering something. When he said goodbye to Blanky he felt slightly better. He was glad his friend knew. He needed someone he could confide in. 

* * *

Francis called upon James the next day. James gladly invited him in and offered him tea as they made their way into the sitting room. They sat talking about this and that before James changed the subject.

“I want you to continue telling me about ‘carnival’. I want you to tell me everything.” He looked at Francis with determination. He knew he was keeping something from him. And he wanted to know what was so horrible that Francis didn’t want to tell him. Francis set down his teacup and looked James in the eyes. He cleared his throat.

“I really don’t think this will help you.” He wanted to try one last time to steer James away from the topic.

“I want to know.” James said with a hard voice. Francis sighed, maybe Blanky was right. He drew in a long breath and said.

“Doctor Stanley set himself on fire. The whole tent went up in flames.” Francis looked at James to see his reaction. James gasped.

“What happened?” James leaned closer to Francis. He ached to reach out and take James hand. But he restrained himself.

“We tried to get out but there was panic, and some didn’t make it out.” He’d leave it at that. He watched James intensely. Suddenly James shot up from his seat and began to pace frantically.

“Why did no one tell me? I killed them. I’m responsible! I shouldn’t be attending parties. I should be locked up or… or hanged!” Francis stared at him. Shocked. This was not how he’d expected him to react. He’d expected him to be upset but to actually wish himself dead. Never that.

“Stop it! It wasn’t your fault! The only one to blame is doctor Stanley! Not you. And I never want to hear you say that you deserve to be dead. Do you hear me?! Never!” In his anger and his urge to calm James he had grabbed his hand and held it tightly in his. James stilled and grabbed Francis hand tighter as if to steady himself. When all of a sudden, he pulled away as if he’d been burned. Francis cursed himself for his carelessness. He had gone at this the wrong way. He’d managed to upset James by telling him the truth and holding his hand once again. This is why he stayed away in the first place. To avoid causing James and himself pain. Because that’s what he felt. The knowledge that James so clearly detested Francis touching him caused him more pain than anything else he’d experienced.

“I’m sorry, I just. I…” James didn’t know how to explain that he just had a vision of the two of them holding hands as Francis helped him up on the ice. And the warm feeling it gave him. He hadn’t meant to pull his hand away in such a rush. He knew that Francis couldn’t read minds, but he felt strangely vulnerable, as if Francis could see every emotion he felt when they were stood this close. Touching. Feelings he didn’t understand himself.

“I better go.” Francis started to walk towards the door. He had to get out of there.

“No, please stay.” James took him by the arm, making him turn around slightly. James was looking at him with sad eyes. Francis quickly turned away from him.

“I have an appointment. I completely forgot. I will see you another time.” And with that he rushed out of the door. When James heard the door slam he collapsed onto the floor, crying. What was happening to him?

* * *

The following two weeks went by slowly. James didn’t see Francis as he seemed to be avoiding him again. James had been trying to trigger his memories but the only thing that seemed to make him have those visions was in Francis presence. He had asked Blanky to come see him. He was after all the man closest to Francis.

“He’s avoiding me. And he’s the only one who has been willing to talk about what we’ve been through.” James was once again pacing in his sitting room twisting and bending his fingers. Blanky followed him with calm eyes.

“Well you know Francis.” Blanky shook his head, he’d just spent several hours listening to Francis ranting about James. About how their plan had failed and that he was done. That he’d go back to ignoring James for the rest of both of their life’s. He’d listened and tried to reason with him but Francis had refused to listen. If only they’d talk to each other without involving him. He had better things to do.

“That’s the point. I don’t know him. Not like he seems to know me. And now he refuses to talk to me after we held…” He stopped himself. How could he be so indiscreet? He’d been so careful when he was in Francis company to not reveal anything about all of the emotions that were driving him insane. And now he almost revealed one of the most damning things to Blanky.

“After you held hands?” He swears he could feel a headache coming on. James looked at him in panic.  
“You’re not the first and I’m sure you’re not the last men to hold hands.” He gave James a knowing look. James didn’t know what to say. Did he want to hold hands with Francis? Did he feel something for him? Something that shouldn’t be felt. He rubbed his hand on his forehead. He really didn’t know, those same questions had been in his mind constantly for longer than he cared to remember. He really needed to see Francis, but he also dreaded it.

“Could you please tell him I wish to speak to him.”

“I will.” Blanky put his hand on James arm in reassurance. James felt nothing as Blanky touched him. He licked his lips nervously.

* * *

“You went to see him?!” Francis face was turning red as he looked at Blanky sitting calmly in an armchair in front of the fire.

“He asked me to come. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” He sometimes wishes he’d never come back to England. Not until they’d stopped being bloody idiots anyway. It was getting on his nerves.

“Yes!” Francis shouted. Then he calmed down, sighed and sat down opposite Blanky.  
“What did he say?”

“You didn’t even want me to go there, so what’s it to you?” Blanky grinned. If he were to endure this he’d at least get to tease his friend with it. After all he was sure now that Fitzjames actually felt the same way about Francis. Or at least he was at the cusp of realising. And Francis avoiding him didn’t help the poor man.

“Thomas.”

“Okay, he was pacing. Almost wearing down the carpet like. And he ranted about you ignoring him. And how you know him, but he doesn’t know you.” He paused for effect.  
“And he accidentally let it slip that you’d been holding his hand.” He leaned back and waited for a response.

“He… He told you about that? What did he say?” Francis was afraid to hear the answer. He could feel hope flicker in his heart, which annoyed him. He’d determined that he would not see James ever again. And that was final.

“He didn’t say anything. He looked panicked after he said it. Mind, he didn’t actually say the whole sentence. I guessed. To tell you the truth, I think he’s confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yes. He obviously feels something, he knows that you were friends even though he doesn’t remember it and now you’re refusing to talk to him. Of course he’s bloody confused.” Francis didn’t say anything. He sat staring into the fire.

“Look, why don’t you just start over? If you found each other out there, why wouldn’t you do it again here?”

“That’s the reason. We were out there. With no women in sight except Lady Silence, why on earth would he choose me here?” He sounded bitter.

“And you think he couldn’t have chosen anyone else out there other than you? He didn’t choose anyone younger or more attractive. I’m saying this as a friend. He chose the bastard captain who loved to mock him in front of his fellow officers. Who berated him and punched him in the face.”

“Yes, thank you. I get it. But he has a chance to have a normal life. A family. If I stay away.” Blanky shook his head. Francis was a very clever man but when it came to matters of the heart, he was a damn fool. His courting of Sophia was further proof. He pondered on what he’d done to deserve this. To be in the middle of two proud men and their love. On second thought, let’s not go down that particular path.

“So, you’re going to take away his choice. You’re deciding what he wants now? You don’t think that’s a bit unfair.”

“That’s not… That’s not what I’m doing. I’m helping him.”

“I think you’re running away. You didn’t run away from our situation out there and I don’t think you should run away from this.” Francis looked defeated. Blanky smiled triumphantly.  
“Just talk to him. Let him get to know you again. Or even more than before. You have the time. And please don’t drag me into it again until it’s resolved. I beg you.” And with that he stood up, placed a comforting hand on Francis shoulder and left him alone in front of the fire.

“Christ.” He exclaimed before he went to fetch his coat.

* * *

“Francis?” James was surprised to see him, pleased. And a little scared. He moved to the side to let him pass.

“I apologise for my behaviour. I wish to start over if you’ll let me.” James looked at him in shock. What had Blanky told him?

“You needn’t apologise, Francis. I shouldn’t have pushed. It can’t be easy for you having me pestering you with questions about difficult memories.” They stood looking at each other for a moment. Francis gave a crooked smile.

“You really have to be the gentleman at all times, don’t you?”

“Except from when I bait you into punching me in the face apparently.” James said, treading carefully as a smile started to play on his lips.

“I never said it was you.”

“Well, I would like to think I’m the only man brave enough to willingly anger captain Crozier.” James was surprised by how easy their banter came to them.  
“Come, sit down.” Francis began to tell him about his childhood, his years on the sea. They wandered from topic to topic.

“If you don’t mind me asking. How is Miss. Cracroft?” James asked after a while, he felt slightly queasy when he waited for the answer.

“Miss. Cracroft?” Francis looked confused. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d returned to England. He had seen her at some of the parties they’d attended but neither of them had made the effort to approach the other. Which suited Francis just fine.

“Oh, I thought that… I saw you embrace when we got back. I thought you were perhaps to be engaged.” He bit his lower lip nervously.

“Oh no. That’s never happening. I’m fond of her. But I no longer wish for her to be my wife.” James let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He felt his spirits lift.

“Well, I’m sure when the time is right it will all work out.” James smiled and poured them both some tea. Francis looked at him sadly. He hoped he was right.

They continued with a different topic and occasional laughter could be heard from both of them. James felt comfortable in Francis presence and asked questions long into the evening. They smiled as they parted ways at the door.

They saw more and more of each other the following weeks. They would dine together in James’ home, their conversation becoming more and more relaxed as time passed. Both of them looking happier than they had in a long time. One evening after dinner they once again sat in James sitting room. They sat in silence, but their silence were no longer awkward but rather comfortable and peaceful.

“I have this for you. I don’t know if you actually like poetry, but I saw it in a bookshop I went to the other day and before I knew it, I had bought it.” Francis looked at the beautiful book James was holding out to him.  
“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” James was about to pull the book back when Francis grabbed it.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” He looked at James with a smile. James could feel himself blush and turned away.

“You’re welcome.” He went to sit down at a safe distance from Francis. Over the weeks that had passed, they had started to get to know each other. Or rather, James had gotten to know Francis. He’d grown more and more fond of Francis. And his confusing feelings had started to solidify into affection and happiness. But he was still scared and he had no plans of letting Francis see them. They fell back into silence as Francis looked through the book. He stopped suddenly.

“How does Love speak?  
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek--  
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender  
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor;  
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace  
In all fair things to one beloved face;  
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;  
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble--  
Thus doth Love speak.”

He looked over at James, he was also reading a book. He suddenly looked up and met Francis eye and smiled before going back to his book. Francis closed the book and put it aside. He kept looking at James as he pondered what to say.

“Do you wish for me to tell you more about our journey?” They had been careful to not broach the subject, but Francis thought it was time. James never said that he didn’t want to hear the rest of it. James looked up from his book. He studied Francis face for a moment before smiling softly.

“Only if you truly want to.” He didn’t want to push Francis away again. Not after they’d started to get closer.

“I think I left off at ‘Carnival’.” James smile faltered.

“Yes.”

“It really wasn’t your fault.” Francis said softly.

“Yes, well… Please continue.” He looked at James for a moment before continuing where he left off weeks ago.

“After ‘Carnival’ we walked out. We lost some men during our walk but ultimately, we were saved. Just in time.” James nodded slowly.

“When did I tell you about my parentage?” It had been at the back of his mind ever since Francis had told him.

“The two of us were walking back after placing a message in the cairn. We spoke about how you were feeling. The scurvy had started to really get a hold of you.” James fingers went to his hairline by instinct. He frowned. He didn’t know why he did it. He had no memory of his illness more than the aftermath and his recovery.

“Please.” He motioned for Francis to continue.

“You told me you were a fool. How you had been appointed to the expedition. And finally your true parentage. It didn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter to me. We became brothers out there. Friends. I’m hoping that we could get that back one day.”

“I would like that very much.” Francis breath hitched in his throat. Did he remember?

“What is it?” James asked softly. Francis closed his eyes. He didn’t remember. He took a deep breath. He could do this. For James.

“Do you wish for me to continue?” James hesitated for a moment, something was clearly bothering Francis. But he still wished to hear more.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hickey started a mutiny. A few of the men went with him but we managed to press on. We were pulling the sleds and suddenly you collapsed. You’d been walking with open wounds. You hadn’t told me about that. We put you in the sled and only set up camp when your pain became too much.” Francis stopped. He rose from his seat and took a turn around the room.

“And then?” James eyes followed Francis as he studied various objects in the room.

“Then we were found.” James scowled.

“Surely we weren’t found as soon as we set camp?” Francis refused to answer. James stood up and went over to him, gently touching his arm. He once again got a warm feeling when he touched him.  
“Francis, what happened?” He asked quietly, softly.

“You asked me to kill you.” He burst out. James saw many emotions washing over Francis face. One stood out. Sadness. He had no idea. How could he have? He didn’t know how to react. And he was more focused on Francis as he continued to speak. 

“But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. And then they came to rescue us, you were still out of it. We didn’t know if you’d make it. I didn’t know if you were coming back to me.” And with that he broke down. He’d kept his feelings in check by building a barrier of anger and frustration. He thought that he’d make it. They’d been spending so much time together and he’d managed to stay friendly. His true feelings still hidden. But to say those words to the man he almost lost broke it down. He sobbed. James looked frightened which made him sob even more. He’d worked so hard and just like that it was destroyed. What would James think of him now. But James quickly came to his senses and wrapped his arms around Francis. Protecting him from the world outside. He clung onto James, to hell with it. If this was the last chance he’d get to hold him, he would take it. He’d deal with the consequences later. He needed this.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” James whispered into Francis hair as he held him tight. They stood holding each other for several minutes until Francis began to calm down, James loosened his grip but kept his hands on Francis’ arms. Francis was looking slightly sheepish as he began to pull away, thinking about what he’d say. James took him by the hands to stop him.

“Francis, are you…”

_“I love you, James.” Francis was crying as he said it. James looked up at him with tired eyes, it was just his luck, having someone confess their love for him as he lay dying. He wanted to say it back, but he couldn’t. His voice didn’t work anymore but he tried to show it with his eyes. He hoped Francis understood, he didn’t want to die without him knowing how much he meant to him. He cursed himself for not saying it before. He felt himself slipping away and his eyes fluttered closed as he drifted off. With Francis holding his hands. _

James gasped. It all came flooding back. He remembered! He remembered everything! Francis loved him, and he loved him back. How could he ever forget that? It all made sense now. His conflicting feelings. His subconscious must have remembered his feelings for Francis. That’s why he wanted to be near him. To touch him. And what he had felt was jealousy when he thought Francis and Miss. Cracroft might get engaged. He stared at Francis with wide eyes, he couldn’t say anything as his mind was racing, old memories blending with new ones. 

“James? James, what is it?” Francis looked worried.  
“Maybe we should sit down. It’s was all a bit much for both of us and…”

“I love you!” Francis couldn’t believe his ears. He’d misheard. He’d finally gone insane.

“What… Let’s sit down and…” Francis tried to ignore his racing heart as he studied James face for some kind of sign that it was all true and not some delusion on his part.

“I was dying and you told me you loved me. I wasn’t able to say it back. But I have my voice now and I love you.” He tried to show all his love on his face as he waited for Francis to respond. He squeezed Francis hands.

“You remember?” Francis collapsed into the nearest armchair. James knelt down in front of him looking into his eyes.

“All of it.” He reached out his hand to touch Francis cheek. He closed his eyes when he felt Francis hand on his own. This is what his heart had been yearning. He finally felt whole again.

“I’m sorry, my love.” Francis closed the gap between them and rested their foreheads together.

“I didn’t know what to do. I thought it would be better for you if I avoided you.” James opened his eyes again.

“Better? But you love me. Or maybe you don’t anymore.” James was unsure now. Maybe their intimacy right at this moment was just an extreme reaction to the strong emotions flying around.

“I do! I do love you. I told myself that this was better for you. That you had the chance to have a normal life.” He might as well tell him the truth. He had him back, nothing else mattered now.

“I love _you_. I don’t want anyone else. And I certainly don’t want a ‘normal’ life. I want a life with you. However ‘not normal’ that may be.”

“I didn’t know that. I thought that it might have been the circumstances that brought you to me. That your missing memories were a sign that we weren’t meant to be.” James felt guilt wash over him. He caused Francis hurt. Deep down he knew that he wasn’t to blame. He was about to say sorry again but Francis grabbed his face with strong hands before he had the time to speak.

“Don’t you dare feel guilty. It is not your fault.” And he leant forward and kissed him. James began to weep. All he could think of was the feeling of Francis lips on his. It felt so right. They hadn’t kissed before. There was no time or place for them to do so out there. And he’s glad that they’d waited. This was a more worthy time and place for their true beginning. This is what they would build on. Not kisses out in a barren land. But right here, warm in a cosy sitting room. Francis pulled him onto his lap and they spent several minutes kissing slowly. Francis was happy, he was right where he was supposed to be and he smiled as he pulled away slightly to look at James. Wiping away his tears. Neither of them planned on going further. Not now. For now, kisses were more than enough. They held each other as tightly as they could. To make sure they were really there. Time passed but they remained entwined.


	2. Epilogue

A week later.

  
“You finally got it together then?” Blanky said as he sat in James sitting room. Or rather James and Francis sitting room. He smiled. He was truly happy that they’d found their way back to each other. Francis deserved happiness. And so did Fitzjames. Francis and James were sitting on the sofa holding hands, smiling.   
“You’re welcome.” They looked at him, confused. Then they realised what he meant and they began to laugh. Blanky joined them, looking at them fondly.  
“I apologise for burdening you. I truly didn’t know who else to talk to.” James said smiling gratefully at him.   
“You hear that, he apologised. That’s more than you’ve done.” He said pointedly to Francis, teasing.  
“Maybe you can rub off on him.” Blanky said, knowing full well how it sounded. And laughed loudly when James blushed furiously.   
“I’m sorry, you’d better get used to it if we’re to spend more time together. And from the looks of it I think we will.” James smiled and turned to look at Francis with love. Blanky stayed for dinner and when it was time for him to leave he stood in the hallway, looking at them.   
“I truly am happy for you. Take care of each other.”They looked at each other before turning back to Blanky. Both answering at the same time.   
“We will.” They closed the door behind Blanky. Smiled and went up the stairs hand in hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this is the first fanfic I've published since 2015. And it's by far the longest. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you liked it!  
Also the poem is "Love's Language" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. It wasn't published until 1883, hence the time travelling poem.


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